Once there was a maiden, as resolute as she was lovely, who lived in a snow-bound village near the edge of the world. She knew myth from truth. No suitor could sway her if he did not have an honest tongue.
So when the stranger came, a dark and handsome figure against the snow, she did not stir. And when he handed her a crown of purple-blue flowers, she betrayed no wonder. But when he told her that he would take her far from that place, she knew it was true. And when he told her that his sled was laden with treasure, she was just as sure. Balanced on the sled, in fact, was a black sack larger than her home or barn or chapel. The stranger climbed up the sack, loosened its rope-tie and let slip – just for a moment of proof – a magnificent beam of light.
She was charmed by how he could both magically bring blooms in winter and be strong enough to push a tremendous sled with neither dogs nor wolves nor oxen. And still she discerned no lies.
And so, when the stranger beckoned the maiden to elope with him, she was certain. He placed a flower-crown atop her dark tresses and bade her climb atop the sled.
Sleep, he whispered, sleep and we will travel far.
Curled under a blanket of fur, she slept fitfully, quivering from the cold winds and the strangeness of dreams. Her imaginings were strange and chaotic, and her body ached when she woke. She was hungrier than she’d ever been. Yet each time she did wake, he assured her that all was how it should be.
The world was blinding white, whirling, with little to mark the passage of realms or miles. Though she could see the sled runners had cut deep tracks behind them and marveled at how he alone could have pushed them so far.
What she could not imagine was how, over and over, he would untie the great black sack and unveil the whole moon. How he would gently lift the flower-crown from her head and watch her body contort and transform… growing fierce teeth and claws, a lush coat of fur, a strong tail. All through the night, under the moonglow, she would pull the sled on which he lounged like a king. She would run fast and strong and furious in the direction of his envisioned future.
And when it was the hour to put the moon away, her body softening back into a maiden’s form, he’d then tuck her in and reset her crown. He would smile each time, ever so smugly, as the wolfsbane blooms kept her true nature restrained.